


I think I'll miss you most of all

by jperalta



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Razors, Scars, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jperalta/pseuds/jperalta
Summary: Tyrell is waiting for Elliot in his apartment after he comes home for the first time since the night with Vera, since the night the truth was finally recalled. Elliot is a total wreck and Tyrell would do absolutely anything to help.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick
Comments: 27
Kudos: 249





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's pretend that *spoilers* Tyrell is not dead, and that everything from 4x07 onward has still taken place.

Elliot walks up to his apartment door - his arms rattling, his whole body rattling, as it has been for hours now. He wonders if he'll ever stop shaking, because at this point he really can't see a future for himself where that's possible. At this point he really can't see a future at all. He reaches out to the apartment doorknob, but it's already unlocked. He should be shocked and he should be scared of who might be inside, but he's not. He's convinced nothing could possibly make him feel worse, and he's probably right.

He shoves his shoulders against the door to open it, and he sees Tyrell sitting on a small chair. When Elliot enters the room, Tyrell quickly stands up.

"Elliot," he states quickly, "I didn't mean to break in, but your door was open, so then I was worried, so I came in and you weren't here but I need to..." His voice trails off as he notices the vacant expression in Elliot's eyes and how badly he's shaking. "Elliot, are you alright?"

Elliot says nothing. He turns and walks into the bathroom, closes the door, leans against it, and lets himself cry and shake as he falls towards the floor. He doesn't care if Tyrell can hear him. He doesn't care about anything anymore - not since this pain shot up into his mind, killing everything else.

On the other side of the door, Tyrell walks slowly towards the bathroom. He has his hand on the door knob and wants to barge in, to make Elliot tell him what's going on, but he doesn't. He listens to Elliot cry on the other side - loud, painful sobs - and the sound makes him nauseous and weak. He tries not to cry himself. There's a series of clambering sounds before Tyrell hears Elliot vomiting. The pain in Tyrell's own stomach grows stronger.

"Should I leave?" Tyrell asks softly. Elliot makes a small noise that Tyrell can't entirely understand. Then a few seconds later he hears a quiet "no," but the door doesn't open and nothing else changes. He decides to stay for a bit. 

Tyrell begins to wander around the apartment, his hands sweating as he wonders what's going on and pushes each horrific idea out of his head. Then he decides he doesn't need to know. If Elliot tells him, then he'll listen, but he doesn't need to know. It doesn't matter. He wants to be there for him anyways. He goes to sit back in the chair he was in when Elliot first came home.

After about ten minutes, the bathroom door opens and Elliot, still shivering and somehow more pale than before, moves into his bedroom. Tyrell follows him in, and finds Elliot sitting on the side of his bed, his head hung as low as Tyrell's ever seen anyone's. Elliot's sleeves are pulled down to his fingertips as his arms dangle from his shoulders, seemingly lifeless except for the slight quiver. Tyrell sits on top of a box near the doorway.

"Elliot," he begins, trying to prevent his voice from breaking as much as it wants to, "whatever it is you're going through..." Elliot's lip trembles as he winces and his face closes up. He looks like he's about to cry again. It all breaks Tyrell's heart. "...I'm here if you... if you need... if you want to talk about..." He can't find the words but he knows it doesn't matter. Elliot knows what he's trying to say. Tyrell leaves the tattered sentence in the open, not expecting a reply.

Outside the wind blows so hard it sounds like a scream. Christmas lights are shining in through the blinds, coming from some other apartment or a store nearby. It's freezing outside and the wind only makes it worse.

Suddenly Elliot says, "what was your favorite movie growing up?" 

Tyrell is surprised that Elliot is speaking, and that this is the first thing he asks. He stupidly mumbles, "what?"

Elliot takes a shattered breath. "Your favorite movie growing up." He looks towards the window. He sees faces reflected and he looks away. "Something you'd always watch whenever you felt bad, or whenever you were sick..."

Tyrell wrings his hands. Everything in this moment feels so fragile he doesn't want to speak for fear of disturbing it further. He's never seen Elliot look so frail. He forgets that Elliot has asked a question, and Elliot forgets too. The two of them sit in silence for several minutes.

"Why are you here?" Elliot asks. He sounds upset and Tyrell tries to remember that he's probably not upset with him. 

"I don't remember," Tyrell whispers, "it doesn't seem important now."

The silence grows and Tyrell feels his stomach twisting. Elliot turns to face him.

"Are you in love with me?" Elliot asks quietly. 

The nausea grows stronger in Tyrell's stomach. He shouldn't have come here. Why did he even come here? But again, he could tell Elliot couldn't be alone right now. He breaks away from Elliot's gaze and focuses his eyes on the skin around his fingernails. He starts to pick at it. "Why would you even ask me that?" He says, the sadness growing larger in his throat. "You don't have to ask that. You know the answer."

Elliot turns back to the window. "I guess I just wanted to hear it again." He puts his head into his hands and leans forward slightly. He starts to cry again but this time it's silent. The tears are pouring down his face and he can't help it. He can't help anything. He just sits there and let's it happen. He hears Tyrell mumble something and turns around again. "What?"

Tyrell clears his throat. "I said _The Wizard of Oz_." His fingers fumble around each other. "My favorite movie - as a kid."

Elliot sits and thinks and Tyrell wants to hold him so badly. "God, Elliot, I'm so s-"

"Don't say you're sorry," Elliot snaps at him. His voice is ragged. "A lot of people have... hurt me, and you're not one of them."

Hearing this should make Tyrell feel better, but it doesn't. He frowns and looks at his shoes while silently thinking of any little thing he has ever said that was rude or mean or unpleasant in any way. He picks the skin around his fingernails more until it hurts.

"I didn't mean to yell at you," Elliot says, softly again. "You just don't have to be sorry."

Tyrell is able to muster up a voice and says, "Elliot, please, is there anything at all that I can do?"

Elliot thinks for another moment. "Would you do anything I asked you to?"

Tyrell wants to scream that he would, that he'd let himself die right now if it meant Elliot would be happy. Elliot scares him but he'd do anything for him. "Yes," he states.

Elliot reaches down and pulls out a laptop. "Sit on the bed," he says.

Tyrell is taken aback. "What?"

"Just, sit on the bed," Elliot repeats. Tyrell moves over to the bed. "Lie down," Elliot says.

Tyrell's heart starts to beat incredibly fast and the nausea continues to grow stronger, but he lies down. He's scared of what Elliot wants him to do and he has absolutely no idea, but nevertheless, he's lying down on Elliot's bed as Elliot taps around on the laptop and turns on the TV in front of them. Suddenly, the MGM lion roars.

"Is this..." Tyrell begins, but he doesn't have to ask. The opening credits to _The Wizard of Oz_ are playing, and the nostalgia fills his body as he tries to stop himself from crying still. Elliot lies down himself, and their hands are side by side, only an inch or so between them.

"Can I try something?" Elliot asks.

"Anything you want," Tyrell replies.

Elliot lets himself slink down the bed a bit, then leans over and puts his head on Tyrell's chest, where he surely can hear Tyrell's heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's. Elliot gently presses a hand to Tyrell as he quietly cries again. Tyrell can see and swallows down the sadness he's feeling. He instinctively let's his arm wrap around Elliot's upper body.

"I'm sorry," Elliot whispers. "I'm sorry - this is so weird." 

Tyrell tightens his grip around Elliot. "It's not," he says, gently rubbing Elliot's back with his thumb. "Believe me, it's not weird at all."

Elliot continues to cry into Tyrell's chest as the movie plays. Tyrell holds him tightly as he desperately tries to control his heart rate.


	2. Chapter 2

_And this is my room, and you're all here. And I'm not going to leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all._

A little less than two hours later, the movie had ended and Tyrell had tried his best not to get misty-eyed at the ending, but sometimes he just can't help himself. The screen goes black and a dark static hangs in the air. Elliot had fallen asleep on Tyrell's chest, and Tyrell knows it's a light sleep that would be broken with the slightest movement, so he tries not to make one as he tries to control his chest going up and down with his breath. He looks at Elliot's face and sees how sunken his eyes are. His throat tightens up again. He wants to reach a hand towards his head and run his hand through his hair. _What happened to you_ , he whispers to himself. Elliot winces in his sleep. Tyrell wishes he could save him.

Then Elliot's eyes blink open. He makes eye contact with Tyrell, who looks at him with a look of extreme concern. Elliot quickly twists his body away from Tyrell's and sits up, staring out the window again. Tyrell sits up too and he's sitting cross-legged on the bed. Slowly, he reaches a hand towards Elliot's shoulder. He expects it to be pushed away, but it's not. Elliot reaches back and grabs his hand. Elliot's hands are warm and clammy, and so are Tyrell's. Both of their hearts are still beating as fast as hummingbirds. The wind rattles the window. Elliot reaches up Tyrell's arm a bit and pulls it down, and Tyrell inches his body closer to Elliot's. He loves Elliot - more than he ever expected to love anyone. And to see someone he loves in so much pain, it makes him want to die.

Elliot starts to sob again, and Tyrell pushes his whole body towards him. "Elliot," he says softly, not meaning to go anywhere with the name. He wraps both of his arms around Elliot's torso and holds him as tight as he can. He presses his cheek against Elliot's shoulder, and feels a few tears fall from his own eyes. 

"I'm so lost," Elliot chokes out.

"I know," Tyrell says. "I'm right here."

Elliot holds onto Tyrell's arms as if they're the only thing stopping him from flying into the air. Tyrell swears he can hear Elliot's heart beating through his body. He holds him tighter. Elliot lets out another choked sob, his breathing irregular. "I can't do this anymore."

Tyrell is trying his best to stop Elliot from panicking, but he knows it's beyond his control. "Just hang on, Elliot, hang on."

Elliot cries more, gasps for breath, heaves out everything and still can't stop shaking. He's having a full-on panic attack and all Tyrell can do is hold him from behind and try not to let Elliot see him cry. 

After about ten minutes of this, Elliot's breathing begins to slow. Tyrell lifts his head from Elliot's shoulder and looks at his face; it's covered in tears, and his eyes are red. 

Elliot stands up quickly and runs to the bathroom, splashes cold water on his face then wipes it with a towel. He looks at himself in the mirror. He hardly recognizes the boy there. Shadows form over his shoulder. He winces and looks down at the sink again. There were too many ghosts in his mind. 

Tyrell continues to sit on the bed, feeling absolutely useless. He hears the water run in the other room then he hears it stop. Elliot walks back into the bedroom, and they both look away from each other. Tyrell closes his eyes, and he knows he's crying again. He wishes he could be strong - he's always wished he could be strong, but he's not. Now someone needs him and he can't do anything.

"Thank you," Elliot says suddenly.

Tyrell opens his eyes and looks at Elliot. He's standing at the foot of the bed with his hood up and his arms crossed tightly in front of his body. 

"I don't think I even did anything," Tyrell says in a monotone voice.

"I don't know either. But you were here. And you..." They catch each other's gaze. "Sometimes I need to remember that human contact can help instead of hurt."

"I hope you know I'm always here for you," Tyrell says, picking at a stitch in the blanket he's sitting on. "Even if it's just..." 

"Just letting me fall asleep on you?"

The corner of Tyrell's mouth turns upward. "Whatever you need from me."

"I feel like... like I'm so cruel to you all the time," Elliot says, his breath still shaky. It's been so shaky this whole time. "Why do you keep caring about me so much?"

Tyrell's voice feels stuck within him. "I wish I knew," he says so softly that he's not even sure Elliot can hear him. His tears are falling from his eyes again. "I know it doesn't make sense. It..." He stops. He shouldn't be saying any of this. Elliot is the one who clearly needs help right now, not Tyrell himself. "I just wish I could help you, Elliot. I... I love..." But he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He saw Elliot keep his gaze away from Tyrell's - he knew Elliot didn't care to hear this, that he most likely didn't feel the same way, had never felt the same way, and probably never would. Everything made his heart sink.

"You should probably go now," Elliot says suddenly.

The words send pain into Tyrell's chest, but he knew it was coming. He stands up. "Are you sure I can't do anything for you?"

"I don't think anyone can do anything for me anymore," Elliot says, sounding more and more broken with every word he utters. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to just leave you here alone. Are you going to be safe? Are you going to be okay?" Elliot looks down. He doesn't say anything. Tyrell walks over to the door then turns to look at Elliot's back. "Please... don't hurt yourself, Elliot," he says, trying hard to keep his voice level. 

As he walks away, Elliot buries his head into his hands again and sinks to the floor, every ounce of energy drained from him.

Tyrell walks out of the front door, closes it, and leans against it, allowing it to hold all of his weight. He feels like he's going to vomit, so he runs outside. It's about 12 degrees out, and the pain of the chill goes right to his core. He leans over a railing and lets himself get sick before sinking to the stairs. It's freezing and he's not wearing his gloves and his jacket is only half on, but he doesn't care. He lets the cold waft through his body. He feels he deserves this aching, this pain. He can't do anything to help Elliot. He can't do anything to help anyone. He feels the oxygen leaving his body and knows he's on the verge of having a panic attack himself. He wants to vomit again but tries hard not to. The people walking by on the sidewalk stare at him and he doesn't care. He's clutching the bars on the railing. "Fuck," he says to himself. 

Back inside, Elliot's mind is racing. He's looking around his apartment at anything he could use to hurt himself. Knives, scissors, pills, a belt, a rope - anything could do it. He thinks of the prospect of being dead and lets the peaceful image wash over him. He wants it so badly and it scares him so much. He's thinking of how great it would be to not feel this pain anymore, this extraordinary sadness, this feeling that nothing will ever, ever be okay again. He's full of a manic energy and wants to punch something. He bites down hard on his knuckles, bites harder until he knows he's drawn blood. He can taste it in his mouth. Finally something propels him out of the apartment, where he finds Tyrell sitting in the front staircase, head bowed low, his breathing incredibly fast. 

At the sound of someone behind him, Tyrell turns around and sees Elliot standing at the top of the stairs in a cold sweat, his knuckles bloody. "Elliot, what--" He begins.

"Come back inside." Elliot says desperately. 

"Are you sure?"

"No. I'm not sure of anything. But if you don't, I don't know what's going to happen to me."

Tyrell stands up as quickly as he can. "Elliot, I want you to be safe," he says, not even attempting to hide his shaking breath anymore. 

"So keep me safe," Elliot says bluntly. He walks back inside and Tyrell follows. 


	3. Chapter 3

They get back into the apartment, and Tyrell feels like he's about to pass out. Elliot is looking at him in a way that suggests he knows Tyrell isn't okay, but he has absolutely no idea what to do.

"Can I, um, get you some water or something?" Elliot says quietly, his voice remaining constantly low.

Tyrell's vision is starting to blur. He feels like he's going to get sick again. "Can I use the bathroom?" Tyrell asks, beads of sweating beginning to roll down the sides of his face.

"Yeah, course," Elliot mumbles.

Tyrell runs into the bathroom and slams the door. He looks at himself in the mirror for only a second and begins to cry. He doesn't know what he's doing. He wants to help but he doesn't really think he even has the power. Who was he to think he could do anything for anyone? He can't even help himself. He doesn't even know what's wrong. 

Elliot knocks on the door and the sound startles Tyrell. He gasps, and his heart rate continues to increase. His airway is closing up. Everything feels like it's shutting down. "Shit, shit," he whispers to himself. He opens the bathroom cabinet as an attempt to find a distraction. His eyes fall on an orange prescription bottle with the words "XANAX" on the label. His breathing continues to go faster. His chest is tight and he's worried he's going to collapse. There's sweat falling faster from his forehead. He looks at the label again - "take as needed for anxiety." He knows he shouldn't do it. That it's Elliot's not his. And he knows he'd feel absolutely horrible if he took one. But he feels terrible now. And how is he supposed to be there for Elliot if he can't even breathe right? His stomach churns more and there's a ringing in his ears. His eyes fall on the razor sitting next to the bottle. It looks like there's a bit of blood on the tip of the blade. "Shit," he says again. He imagines clutching the razor in his hand as tightly as he can, feeling the blade dig into his palm. His hands clench as he lets himself imagine the suffering he knows he deserves. He reaches towards it then moves his hand to the bottle instead, and he hold it in his shaking, sweating hand. "Take as needed," it says. It doesn't have his name on it, but he quickly pops the top off, puts a pill in his mouth and sticks his face under the running faucet. Then he lets himself sink to the floor, pulls a nearby towel up to his mouth and screams as hard as he can.

Elliot knocks on the door again. "Tyrell, maybe you shouldn't be here."

Tyrell lets out a sound that almost seems like a laugh. He wants to be calm. Why hasn't that pill worked yet? Why aren't they instant? "You told me to come in again!" Tyrell half-yells while still hyperventilating. 

"I know I did," Elliot says, sounding like he's about to scream himself. "But I don't think it was a good idea. I mean you're..." He tries to open the door and finds that it's unlocked. He pushes it open and sees Tyrell sitting in front of the sink, the water running, a bottle of his pills open, and Tyrell sweating more than he's ever seen him before. "Jesus."

Elliot squats in front of Tyrell and looks him in the eyes. The two of them are a few inches away, and Elliot's proximity isn't helping Tyrell at all. Tyrell shuts his eyes. What the fuck is happening? He feels Elliot's hand on his arm and the feeling makes him flinch. "Please," he chokes out, "please don't touch me. Not right now." He hates himself more with every word he speaks.

"That's why you shouldn't be here!" Elliot yells. "I can't help you. And you can't help me. We just..." Tyrell's head is in his hands again. The tears are coming through his fingers. "We're both just too..."

"Too what?" Tyrell says angrily. "Too broken? Is that what you want to say?"

"Tyrell I..." 

"I want to help you, Elliot. That's why I'm here. I know I can't help myself, but I want to try to help you."

"I don't think you can," Elliot says, somehow meaning for it to be reassuring.

"God, you say shit like that and it freaks me out!" Tyrell feels the cold counter against his head and has an urge to pound it with the back of his skull. He doesn't do it, but the granite reminds him he could. "If I can't help you, then someone should. You should talk to someone."

"I... can't," Elliot says, thinking of Krista and all the shit he's put her through. "I don't know if I can talk about it."

Tyrell leans his head further into the sink counter. "Elliot, the things you keep saying..." He closes his eyes. He wants to punch his leg a thousand times until it bruises. "I'm worried you're going to kill yourself."

Elliot hangs his head and says nothing. The silence kills the both of them. He lets himself fall fully onto the bathroom floor. "Tyrell," he says softly, "I don't know how to say this. But I... I don't know if you maybe, I'm going to sound like a dick - I already do - but..." He reaches up and grabs the open prescription bottle and plays with the label. "Look, I need someone here, but I... if you're here for me now, I can't promise that that's going to make me fall in love with you too."

Tyrell swallows hard. He's not sure if that's what's been making him feel like he needs to help Elliot so badly - if it's because he loves him or because he wants Elliot to love him back, or if it's a combination. He's feeling the Xanax starting to take effect. He wants to thank Elliot for not ridiculing him for taking it, but he doesn't say anything. His brain starts to feel fuzzy. He looks at Elliot and sees how hurt he looks, sees how thin he is. "I don't care," Tyrell utters.

Elliot looks up at him again. "You... what?"

"I don't care if you love me. I just want you to be okay. And I know what you want to say now is that you don't know if you'll ever be okay again. But I'm pretty sure that if you don't talk about whatever it is that happened, you'll never move on from it. So you might as well try."

Elliot picks at the grout. "I want you to know," he says looking at the floor. "I just don't know how to even begin telling you."


	4. Chapter 4

The two continue to sit on the bathroom floor. Tyrell's breathing has been slowing steadily over the course of the past few minutes.

"Are you doing okay?" Elliot asks, still avoiding eye contact while picking at the label on the prescription bottle.

Tyrell let's out a small scoff. "You want to know if _I'm_ okay?"

Elliot frowns. "Well, yeah, I mean you... you took..."

Tyrell winces. He's talking about the Xanax. He feels an aching in his heart. He knew he'd regret it. "I shouldn't have done that," Tyrell says under his breath. "They're yours. I just... I didn't..."

"It's okay," Elliot says softly. "Honestly, I don't even really take them." He manages to peel off a part of the label. "That's why I have so many. I just keep getting it refilled but not using any."

"Why don't you take them?" Tyrell asks, still trying to steady his own breathing but feeling much more in control than before.

Elliot shrugs. "Sometimes it's because they don't really do anything anyways. Sometimes it's because I think I deserve to be shaking so badly. Sometimes I..." He dumps the full bottle out into his hand. There's about 90 pills, and it's a strong dosage, too.

The lump in Tyrell's throat grows stronger. The sight of Elliot holding all of those pills in his hand sends shivers through his whole body. The thought of him doing this on the bathroom floor alone makes him twitch. "Elliot..." He reaches out towards Elliot's hands and their fingers touch. Neither of them flinch away. Elliot pours the pills back into the bottle and puts it on the counter. Tyrell lets his hand drift from Elliot's hand to his knees.

Elliot is shaking harder now.

"Do you want me to stop?" Tyrell whispers.

"I don't know," Elliot says, starting to lose hold of his breath. The touch makes both of them feel sick.

"I just don't know if I'm helping," Tyrell says, choking back his own tears again.

"I don't know," Elliot repeats.

Tyrell grazes his fingers over Elliot's leg, up towards his arm again and down to his shaking palm. He looks at Elliot's eyes and sees they're filled with fear. He pulls his hand away. Elliot stares at him directly in the eyes.

"I feel like I'm supposed to kiss you," Elliot says.

But the way he phrases it makes Tyrell want to cry harder.

"You're not supposed to do anything," Tyrell says, staring at his fingertips. "Neither of us are in the... the right state anyway."

Elliot suddenly leans forward, and it takes everything Tyrell has to hold his hand up and keep him back. He's wanted to kiss Elliot for a long time, but he can't help feeling like he'd be taking advantage of him now. And plus, his mind was really starting to shut down after the Xanax. The whole thing was just making him more sad - both of their inabilities to connect with the other, with anyone.

"I feel like I'm supposed to..." Elliot starts again.

"You aren't," Tyrell says, trying his best to comfort Elliot as he leans into his hand.

"I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything. I want to help. I want to be your friend. I don't want anything else from you."

More tears fall from Elliot's eyes. "I don't think anyone's ever told me that."

Tyrell's mind begins to spin as he starts piecing things together haphazardly. "You don't owe anyone anything, Elliot." Elliot bows his head and lets his tears fall. "I don't expect you to do anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy this hurt to write


	5. Chapter 5

"What time is it even?" Elliot asks

Tyrell looks at his phone feeling a little dizzy and, well, a little high. 3:30am. "Uh, late. Or - early?" He looks over at Elliot as he wipes the tears off his cheeks for the thousandth time since they've been together. That lump in his throat is still there. He's not sure if it will ever go away now. Tyrell looks down at his own hands again, chokes back the pain in his neck and asks, "Did you still want me to go? If you want to sleep or..." He tries not to imagine what Elliot does at night when he can't sleep - what he does to himself, what he thinks about, if he dumps that bottle in his hand and stares at it for God knows how long.

"You can stay," Elliot says in a vaguely casual manner. "I'm... not tired, but if you want to sleep..."

"I'm not tired either," Tyrell says, lying since the Xanax has taken full hold of him and he's absolutely exhausted and would probably fall asleep if he was horizontal for two seconds. 

"So what do we do now?" Elliot asks, looking at the ground between them as he slouches against the opposite bathroom wall from Tyrell. 

Tyrell notices that he's staring at the prescription bottle again and he wants to fling it across the room. The Xanax has made him a lot less anxious but now he feels this crazy sadness pressing up against him ever stronger than before. The nausea is back and he wants to yell at his stomach that there's nothing left in there to give up. He tries to take deep breaths to distract himself.

"Do you have any more favorite movies?" Elliot asks, desperate to do something where they don't have to talk.

Tyrell looks him in the eyes. "I was a lonely child whose parents ignored him. I have a lot of favorite movies." He must have said something that had struck a nerve, because Elliot winces. "What happened?" Tyrell asks, trying not to sound like an idiot.

Elliot takes in a deep breath then lets it out. "Nothing," he lies. "I wish my parents ignored me," he says in a raspy voice.

Tyrell tries to think if he should press him or not, and he decides he might as well. "What did they do to you?"

Elliot takes another shaky breath, opens his mouth to speak, and instead rolls up his sleeve on his left arm. Tyrell draws in a breath quickly as he sees several circular burns on his forearm. He wants to pull Elliot in close and hold him and kiss his scars, but he doesn't. He forces his back against counter, tries to sit on his hands. He doesn't want to touch him and set him off. It was so difficult wanting to touch someone so badly, and knowing if he did he'd probably only make bad things worse. 

"God," Tyrell breathes out. "What the fuck."

Elliot rolls his sleeve back down to his fingertips quickly. "An ashtray," he chokes out, trying to keep his voice steady. "That's what she called me. Me and Darlene, the both of us. That's all we were to her."

Tyrell's stomach is twisting into knots all over again. "And what about your dad?" He asks cautiously, but regrets immediately. 

Elliot doesn't respond. His face tightens as he closes his eyes and tears fall again.

Tyrell bows his head, ashamed to have asked. Again there were the two of them, having no idea what to say, sitting inches away from each other and unable to comfort the other. "I shouldn't have asked," Tyrell whispered, picking at his fingernails again.

"That's what it is," Elliot says quietly. "That's what I... can't talk about."

"You don't have to," Tyrell tries to assure him. "I shouldn't have asked," he repeats.

Elliot pulls his legs to his chest, wraps his arms around around them, and buries his head between his knees.


	6. Chapter 6

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door. It startles the both of them greatly. Elliot looks towards the door like there is a ghost standing in front of it. Tyrell could swear he was feeling the effects of the Xanax wear off all at once as his body began to tremble again. Elliot motions to stand, but finds that he is too weak. Tyrell pushes himself up.

"Tyrell, don't, you don't know who it could be." Elliot says, his heart pounding away.

"I'm not going to open it," Tyrell says. "I just want to look." He moves slowly towards the door. The knocking had stopped. The air feels as quiet and still as it does after a snowstorm. He looks through the peephole. "There's no one there," he says into the door. "Elliot. There's no one there."

Elliot remains on his knees. "Come back," he whispers. "Don't open it."

But Tyrell doesn't listen. He unlocks the door, and bats away the sound of Elliot gasping. He opens the door half an inch, and sees an envelope with Elliot's name on it. No address - it was just dropped off. He picks it up, brings himself back into the apartment, and locks the door again.

Elliot has managed the strength to stand. "What is it?" He asks, still sounding absolutely terrified.

"It's just an envelope," Tyrell says, then as he moves it around in his hand says, "but it's hard. And a little heavy."

Elliot moves towards him.

"Should I open it?" Tyrell asks.

"I guess... why not?" Elliot says in a deadpan tone.

They open the large manilla envelope together, and Tyrell pulls out an iPad with a folded piece of paper taped to it. Tyrell opens the paper and reads, "We were told to record this, but there's no use for it anymore. This is the only copy." He can hear Elliot's shaking breath behind him. He wants to hold his hand and tell him it will be okay - whatever this is. But of course, he can't even be sure about that. He unlocks the tablet and a video starts playing at a volume so loud it causes Tyrell to jump and he loses hold of the tablet. It falls onto the ground, a large crack stretching across the front now, the video still playing. It's of Elliot talking with Krista, both of them looking incredibly upest. His stomach churns.

"They recorded it," Elliot begins to hyperventilate again. "Of course they did - that's all this ever was. Blackmail, or something. Everything, it was all for... _fuck_."

Tyrell should have been listening more closely to Elliot but he is absolutely entranced by the video - the timestamp on it says it happened just a bit before Elliot came home. This must have been what happened. He felt like he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know so badly. He wanted to know what had happened to destroy Elliot as much as it had. He stood over the tablet.

_"What were you scared of?"_

Tyrell realizes that Elliot is about to remember something from long ago, something that would change the way he thought about everything.

He thinks of Elliot's sleeves pulled up to his fingertips, the vacant look in his eyes, how thin he's looked, how pale, then he remembers the razor in the bathroom cabinet with the traces of blood on it next to the countless prescription bottles, and he's realized he's just heard the door lock.

He throws himself against the bathroom door, trying to open it. "Elliot, what are you doing?" He shouts. He hears scattered breathing, the sound of items clanking around. "What is this video? Please let me in."

The video plays on the tablet in the background. He hears Krista asking questions in a soft but pushing voice. He hears Elliot mumble "no, no" over and over again. He hears the pain in his voice. It all feels like a horrible dream.

"Elliot, fuck, please," Tyrell cries as he begins to kick the door.

The video keeps going. He looks over at it again. Elliot is sobbing in it now. Tyrell feels his heart racing, wondering what the fuck he's about to find out, and wondering what in God's name is going on in the bathroom.

_"Were you afraid of your father? Were you afraid he was going to ask you to do something you didn't want to do?"_

_"Yes."_

"Elliot," Tyrell whispers to the Elliot in the video. "Oh God."

_"Do you remember what he asked you to do?"_

_"Yes, I remember."_

Elliot's voice is completely shattered. Tyrell feels like he's going to vomit again. His hands are shaking.

_"Elliot, did your father sexually molest you?"_

Tyrell feels an electric rage completely fill his body as the Elliot in the video cries and says, " _yes_." He clutches his fists tightly in his hands and lunges into the bathroom door, making it finally burst open. Elliot is sitting in the bathtub, shaking uncontrollably, the razor clutched tightly in his hand and his sleeves rolled up. On his left arm are the scars his mother gave him. On his upper right forearm are horizontal lines ranging in length and depth, some of them white and some of them red. Tyrell jumps into the tub with him as quickly as he can. "Elliot, can you hear me?" But he's far gone again, his eyes distant, his fingers trembling. "You're here, I'm here. God I'm so sorry."

Elliot squeezes the razor tighter. The tip digs into his palm. Tyrell wrestles it out of his hand and throws it across the room. The blood splatters on the tile near the sink. Tyrell grabs a towel nearby and wraps Elliot's hand tightly. "I don't know what to do," Tyrell whispers, mostly to himself.

"Just get the fuck out of here!" Elliot screams.

Tyrell chokes back his own sobs. "No! No, I'm not fucking leaving."

"Please," Elliot lets out in a voice that almost doesn't sound human. "Just leave me alone!" He puts his hands over his ears, draws his legs to his chest.

"Why? So you can kill yourself?" Tyrell cries. "I'm not going to do that."

"God, please, I just want it to be over!"

"He's not here! He's gone! You don't have to run away from him, okay? He can't hurt you anymore."

Elliot jumps out of the tub and towards the razor, but Tyrell grabs him and pulls him close, slamming both of them against the side of the tub. He knows Elliot doesn't want him there, let alone holding him this tightly, but Tyrell couldn't just let him hurt himself.

"Elliot, please, _please_ ," Tyrell screams as he wraps his arms around Elliot. Elliot continues sobbing.

"I want to die. Just let me die." Elliot sobs as he struggles against Tyrell's hold. But Tyrell has his hands clasping his own wrists, and Elliot is too weak in his complete exhaustion to break out of it. "God, please, stop fucking _touching me_." He screeches at the end and Tyrell instinctively lets go of him before quickly picking up the razor and standing in front of the sink, blocking the cabinet of pills.

But Elliot doesn't try to come after him, the razor, or the pills. He doesn't try to move at all. He's stuck on the ground hyperventilating, his hands moving frantically from his knees to the ground to his chest to wrapped around his head.

"I don't know what to do," Elliot breathes out. "I don't know what to do."

Tyrell looks around the room and again notices the bottle of Xanax on the counter. _Take as needed.._. "Elliot..." he starts, but Elliot isn't entirely listening. He's just repeating the same thing to himself.

Tyrell grabs a pill from the bottle and fills a small cup nearby with water before kneeling in front of Elliot. "Take it," he says sternly. "This is what it's for. Take it."

Elliot winces and looks away. "It won't do anything. It won't change anything. Nothing can change anything."

"That's true, it can't change what happened," Tyrell begins, "but it can change how you feel right now, just for tonight. It can provide you relief if only for a few hours." Elliot lets out several more deep sobs. "Please, Elliot," Tyrell sighs, his shaking hands holding the pill and the water in front of Elliot's drifting gaze as he stares at the bottle on the countertop. "Just one," Tyrell states, trying to appear calm. "Not the bottle. Just this one."

Elliot continues to breathe heavily, but he reaches towards Tyrell's hand. When their fingers touch, Elliot flinches and pulls away. "I can't do anything," he says sounding entirely distraught.

"Yes, you can. Hold out your hand."

Elliot puts out his shaking hand and makes it into a small cup. Tyrell drops the pill into it. "Just one. It will help." Finally Elliot pops the pill into his mouth and grabs the water out of Tyrell's other hand before swallowing. Tyrell feels a moment of relief - it's just a moment, but it's something - to know that in this moment, Elliot was willing to keep going just a bit longer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a while! Almost a year. I've been rewatching this show with my roommate who hasn't seen the latest season yet (!) and I found myself coming back to this thing I wrote, so I decided to finally write the "finale" chapter of sorts. Is there anyone still out there? Love you all, stay safe x

Tyrell's brain feels like it's on fire, but he can't even imagine how Elliot is feeling. Elliot is still on the ground, legs pulled up tight to his chest. His head is against the wall, eyes closed, and he's crying quietly while whispering words to himself that Tyrell can't understand. Tyrell crouches down a bit then sits on the floor. It hurts him to want to hold Elliot as tight as he can and not be able to. And it hurts to see Elliot looking so hurt, so out of it, and for good reason, too. Tyrell can hear the words from the video playing over and over again in his head until he starts tearing up again. He looks back to Elliot, who looks so small right now, so vulnerable.

"Hey Elliot..." Tyrell begins, trying to coax Elliot back to reality. Elliot stops whispering but otherwise remains the same. He flinches a bit when he hears his name, as if it's only ever been associated with pain. "Elliot, it's Tyrell. It's..." He wants to say – _it's your friend,_ but he wasn't even sure that that was true. "It's me," he says instead, his voice cracking. "It's just you and me right now. We're in your apartment, in your bathroom. There's no one else here. You can open your eyes if you want to." Tyrell is speaking how he'd speak to a dog that was cowering in a corner after suffering from abuse. Maybe it was wrong to compare Elliot to that, but that's how he seemed – so small, so caved in on himself, begging the universe to let him disappear. "You're safe here, I promise," Tyrell continues. "I... I..." _I love you_ , he thinks. "I promise – you're safe."

Elliot opens his eyes and looks right at Tyrell, and now Tyrell is feeling on display so he moves his arms around, unsure what to do. He settles on crossing them over his chest, then feels like an idiot. "He's not here?" Elliot asks in a small voice. 

Although Tyrell doesn't entirely know who he's talking about, he shakes his head side to side. "Just you and me." 

Elliot swallows then shifts his weight and makes an odd face. He looks confused for a moment, then says, "did you give me something?"

Tyrell just nods. The fact that Elliot can't remember makes him feel sick, and Tyrell thinks of all the ways he could have possibly fucked this night up. Should he have made Elliot take anything? Should he have forced Elliot to go to the hospital as soon as he had come home looking like he wanted to push a bullet into his brain? Should Tyrell ever try to help anyone? Did he only ever make it all worse? Should he have rid the world of himself years ago?

Elliot had said something but Tyrell was too busy being tortured by his own brain to hear it. So he looks to Elliot, who repeats the words "thank you." And Tyrell wants to cry, because of course he wants to cry. It's all he's wanted to do since he got here. But instead he just nods again. He's tired, so fucking tired. From the small window near the ceiling he can see the sky is starting to turn a lighter shade of purple. Elliot follows his gaze and sees it too, then looks back to Tyrell, who is feeling far too self-conscious to keep eye contact and instead starts picking at the grout.

"Are you tired?" Elliot asks, as if reading Tyrell's mind.

Tyrell wants to scream YES, but the thought of him being unconscious or away from Elliot right now seems too terrifying, so he just shrugs. "Are you?" He responds.

Elliot shrugs back then looks to the window again – light purple, some pink poking through.

Tyrell takes in a deep breath and wipes the eyes from his cheeks. "Come on," he says while standing up. He outstretches a hand which Elliot stares at for a moment before taking a hold of it. When Tyrell pulls Elliot up, he notices how badly Elliot is shaking still, despite the Xanax. It's still all so horrible but Tyrell is trying to come back from feeling useless. His thumb grazes over a scar on Elliot's wrist, and they both wince. Tyrell looks at Elliot for a moment as if trying to tell him he's beautiful without speaking.

Tyrell stands to the side and Elliot walks past him, the top of his head passing just in front of Tyrell's mouth. He holds himself against the wall, feeling frozen again, until Elliot looks back and gives a slight smile. Tyrell follows him back to the bedroom. The sight of the bed seems to cause a moment of panic, and Elliot stops abruptly before taking a step back into Tyrell and causing both of them to jump. "Elliot, it's me, it's okay," Tyrell whispers. Elliot reaches out to hold Tyrell's forearm, only for a moment, but the feeling causes all sorts of fear and love and hurt to flow through him. Tyrell can't control it at all because soon he's crying again, and he knows Elliot can see it but isn't saying anything.

Elliot lets go of Tyrell's arm, and immediately Tyrell wants the touch back but can't do anything about it. Elliot's face is closing up. "Will you stay?" He whispers.

Even if Elliot had told him to leave, Tyrell's plan had been to sit outside just so he could be close, could help if anything else happened. "Do you want me to?" Tyrell asks. 

Elliot just nods. "Like before," he says, referring to when he fell asleep on Tyrell's chest earlier.

Instead of asking Elliot a thousand times if he's sure, Tyrell just nods too and says, "okay."

When they get over to the bed, Elliot reaches like he's going to take his shirt off but then doesn't. Tyrell is following Elliot's every move. So when Elliot lifts up the comforter and gets into the bed, Tyrell does the same. Their hands brush against each other under the sheets. Then Elliot brings a hand up and puts it on top of Tyrell's chest. They can both feel how loud it is, how fast it's going. Tyrell mouths "I'm sorry" so quietly he isn't even sure Elliot can hear him. 

"Is this okay?" Elliot asks tenderly.

_You can do whatever you want to me,_ Tyrell thinks. "Yes," he responds. 

Elliot brings himself closer so Tyrell can feel the heat of his body against his own. He's not sure how this happened – him, in Elliot's bed, Elliot's lips an inch away from his skin – but he's trying not to think about it too hard right now. He just steals a glance down at Elliot's hair and wants to praise the universe for not taking Elliot away from him tonight. The sedatives in both their systems makes falling asleep easy, and the sky keeps changing until it's a gray blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from (if it isn't obvious) The Wizard of Oz


End file.
